


You Are My Bloodflow

by NotMyDivision



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Kylo Ren, Betrayal, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love?, M/M, Mysteries of the Force, Needles, One Shot, Slaughter at a social gathering, Violence, it ends well i swear, kylo ren to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 02:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyDivision/pseuds/NotMyDivision
Summary: ‘Power implies notoriety which in turn implies threat. The more dangerous you are, the more in danger you become.’‘In the end, you either win or lose.’Or: General Hux attends a long-time client’s social gathering to maintain good relations but chaos quickly ensues when his life is threatened.NOTE: Read this fic whilst listening to M83’s ‘Wait’. Start the song when you read “Press ‘play’ now!” in the fic.





	You Are My Bloodflow

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT : When you read "Press 'play' now!", read the rest of the fic with the song ‘Wait’ performed by M83 playing in the background. Trust me ;)
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes!

When presented with authority, control, _power_ , every decision generates consequences. Every gesture, every word, all must be carefully planned. Being a strategic genius is certainly not a disadvantage. There is, however, always diversity in thought, in opinion. Supporters admire your rhetoric whilst opponents contemn your bombast. Power implies notoriety which in turn implies threat. The more dangerous you are, the more in danger you become. You embody both hunter and prey. 

As your influence increases, so does the target on your back. You do not solely move the pieces on a chessboard, you also immerse yourself into a different game, one of survival. You need guardianship, a shield. One derived from loyalty and reliability. Say a security team, bodyguards. Say an army spawned from your very organisation as well as a powerful force-sensitive Knight, one that deeply cares for you. And if your lust for power persists, you acknowledge the risks said power entails. One ill-timed move or a moment of ignorance can be fatal, regardless of your rank. 

In the end, you either win or lose. 

For General Hux, it is a single moment of distraction led by a lack of diligence that initiates his downfall.

\----------

He is standing near the full-length glass wall, drink in hand, observing the scenery of the rocky planet, so different from the void he usually witnesses from his viewport on the _Finalizer_. Here, faraway mountains pose in deep purples and golds, undisturbed by the cacophonous chattering of Lady Medea’s guests. He’s been here before; these social occasions are quite tedious, but regrettably imperative to attend in many instances to secure the First Order’s relationship with clients. 

His gaze drifts toward the dark figure looming in the far corner of the ballroom. He watches as Kylo Ren stands still, no doubt probing the minds of the guests in search of corrupt intentions.

“Dare I say you look ravishing, General?” a voice sing-songs behind him.

“Ah, Lady Medea,” he acknowledges, twisting to face her. He’s never truly enjoyed her company, but he cannot deny the Order greatly benefits from her financial activities. “Lovely gathering, as always.”

She wears an emerald long-sleeved dress that hugs her petite frame, complete with dark green lace gloves. Her auburn hair is neatly styled in an elegant bun at her nape. She holds a glass of champagne, a smear of puce lipstick staining the clear material. 

She brings her drink to her painted lips, looking over the general’s shoulder. “I see your knight in shining armour is still following you like a shadow,” she grins.

Hux aims his gaze toward Ren but frowns as he witnesses him exit the room. “Well, you know how it is,” he drawls, turning to face Lady Medea once more. “Protocols and such,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand.

“Of course,” she nods. Her smile is charming but her eyes glow with malevolence. A chill runs down Hux’s spine. A quick scan of the room confirms Ren is still absent. 

He clears his throat. “Anyhow, I must express my gratitude. The First Order is most grateful for your continuous loyalty.”

The woman chuckles, lips quirking in amusement. “Well,” she utters, “I do try.” She delicately places her hand on Hux’s shoulder, leaning to whisper into his ear. “However, it is quite a shame I do not try hard enough.”

Before the general can react, a thin needle penetrates the skin of his neck. “I’m afraid I’ve found a more generous supplier.”

(Press ‘play’ now! And don’t read too fast ;) )

It takes a split second, an infinitely small sliver in time and space yet time seems to slow, the moment lasting minutes, hours, days.

A burning sensation shoots through the base of his neck, to his shoulders, his chest. He loosens his grip, registers the sound of glass shattering somewhere to his left. Something smelling sweet splatters the toe of his boot, ruining the polished leather. He distantly hears a roar, a lightsaber igniting. Spots Lady Medea slipping through a hidden door.

He drops to his knees and begins unbuttoning his jacket, clawing at the offending garment. His hands are trembling, his whole body suddenly wracked with searing pain. He doubles-over and pressed his scorching forehead against the cool marble floor, heavily breathing through his parted lips. His eyes fill with unshed tears as the pain intensifies. How could he have let this happen? He knows better than to let his guard down outside his quarters. He clenches his fists, knuckles turning white as anger and humiliation flood his body. 

Surrounding him are the screams of terrified guests as they desperately seek a way to safety. The steady hum of Ren’s lightsaber reaches his ear as well as the sounds of porcelain cracking and wood splintering. A soft thud makes Hux look at the cadaver sprawled beside him. Half the man’s visage has been teared off, muscle and skin hanging gruesomely. The stem of his wine glass protrudes from his orbit. The strong scent of blood clings to Hux’s nostrils, making him scramble away gracelessly instead focusing on the scene unfolding before him.

The room is an utter bloodbath. Limbs and shredded garments litter the floor. The air smells of burnt flesh and bones. Kylo Ren stands in the center of the ballroom, wrath rolling off him in great waves. He is efficiently severing a Twi’lek’s lekku whilst crushing the windpipe of one of the servants with the sole of his boot. One woman is unceremoniously force-thrown across the room, her body colliding with the grand crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling causing the whole structure to crash down onto the people beneath, painting the floor and walls with crimson. 

If Hux weren’t in such agony, he would find his Knight unconditionally beautiful.

A tightening in his chest causes him to whimper and lie on his back. The cool tiles do very little to appease his impeding fever. He feels rather than hears Ren remove his mask and kneel beside him, lightly cupping the side of his face and running the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone. “She lured me away, Hux. I should have sensed it,” he spats.

He has never noticed before, but there is a hint of gold in Ren’s warm brown irises. Such soft eyes for a murderer. How perverted. They do say you witness ethereal beauty before death, don’t they? 

Ren worries his lower lip and shakes his head. “I’ll fix this, Hux, I promise,” he states, desperate. Hux hears the words _I’m sorry_ being whispered in his mind. He has never seen his Knight look so lost.

“Oh Kylo,” he sighs. His body is mostly numb, the pain now so intense he scarcely feels it anymore. Dark lines travel beneath his skin from his neck to his fingertips and up past his chin, spreading like vines and slowly killing him from the inside. How dull. He never expected to live a very long life, but he at least envisioned an honorable, glorious death. Killed on the bridge aboard the _Finalizer_ , executed on the battlefield. Not at the hands of a traitorous client on a meaningless planet. He closes his eyes and gently rests his trembling palm against Ren’s cheek. “My Kylo…” he trails off.

“No.” Ren hisses. “You can’t…” he says through gritted teeth, blinking away the moisture in his eyes, “Hux, how dare you!”

The smaller man wheezes a hysterical laugh before coughing and weakly clawing at the floor. _How dare he, indeed_ he thinks, gasping for air. A small whine escapes his lips. Ren shushes him, carding his bloodied fingers through Hux’s hair and wiping away the wet streaks at his temples. When did he start crying? He wasn’t certain he remembered how to.

He silently sobs as Ren cradles his face and kisses his forehead, shedding tears of his own. Everything hurts. His entire body convulses, flesh burning as the poison flows through his veins. Black fills the edges of his vision. He wishes Ren’s powers could make the suffering cease.

The room around them has gone quiet, everyone either mangled and bleeding on the floor or having fled. In the surrounding silence, Hux’s shallow breaths are deafening. The convulsions have mostly stopped, now only the occasional spasm makes him quiver. Everything seems to slow. His sight blurs, his lover’s features no longer discernible. His body becomes limp, his breathing decelerating. “K-Kylo…” he croaks.

Ren franticly roams his hands over Hux’s clammy skin, willing the redhead to stay conscious. “No, please,” he pleads, “you can’t leave me!” His grip tightens around the smaller man. “You can’t leave me,” he whispers, voice cracking.

The air in the room feels charged, as if the Force is making itself known. As he drifts further toward eternal slumber, Hux feels it caress his skin. He presumes the drug causes psychedelic episodes as well as physical discomfort for his surrounding seems to shift into motion. The cracked marble floor fluidly mends itself back into an even smooth surface, leaving no evidence of ever being chipped or damaged. The wood panels are drained of blood and champagne, and neatly secured back into place on the ceiling and walls. He stares with amazement as hundreds of crystals float past him to gather in the centre of the room, each gleaming piece blending together to restore the grand chandelier. 

He sucks in a breath when he senses a dull pressure inside his core. Around him, the evidence of the recent destruction continues to be reversed. He looks to Ren, a query in his eyes, but the other man shakes his head and shushes him before he can utter a single word. “I promised you I would fix this,” he breathes, gently placing a hand over his lover’s heart. 

Hux sighs as the strange feeling slowly spreads beneath his skin until every inch of his body is seized with it. The sensation is disconcerting, but not painful. This doesn’t feel like dying. “Kylo, w-what are you doing?”

The now unmistakable feeling of the Force surges through his veins, curling itself around the contamination flowing in his blood and swiftly eliminating it, making him gasp and clamp his fingers in Kylo’s robes. The pressure intensifies and he cries out, unable to restrain himself. He is completely overwhelmed both by the lingering pain and the effects of the Force. He is disintegrating, being reduced to pieces and being rebuilt from the inside out. It feels both pure and corrupt. 

He watches in awe as Ren clenches his eyes shut and works his jaw in concentration. The broader man begins to tremble from the effort, sweat beading at his temples. A drop of blood drips from his nose, settling above his upper lip. Hux gingerly cups his flushed cheek, a silent plea. It wouldn’t do to survive if his Knight had to fall. He expects bloodshot eyes, yellow-rimmed irises or two pools of onyx to coldly stare back at him, but when Kylo opens his eyes, they are the same warm golden-brown he remembers.

The dark vine-like marks across his skin recede before vanishing entirely. The once unbearable pain dissipates, leaving a dull ache in its place. He senses the exact moment the last trace of poison is withdrawn from his bloodstream, feels the force-link between him and Kylo being severed.

Ren collapses next to Hux, gasping for air. They both stare at the ceiling catching their breath before gazing at each other. Kylo’s parted lips curve upwards and Hux rewards him with a grin of his own.

In the end, you either win or lose. For General Hux, the outcome is still to be determined. However, one thing is certain: 

His downfall would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you read this with M83’s ‘Wait’ blasting. If not, do so now. <3
> 
> FYI, in Greek mythology, Medea kills her brother and later her children to obtain what she desires. She basically slays anyone who is in her way.
> 
> Title inspired by 'Lovely Bloodflow' by Baths


End file.
